


like the beating of a drum

by CassandrasDreamworld



Series: i am forgotten (i am remade) [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Support Horse, Gen, Hallucinations, He get's better in this y'all, Heavy Angst, I will tag as I go along, If you think a tag is missing PLEASE do tell me, Jaskier Learns how to Fight, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Competent Jaskier, References To Past Temporary Character Death, References to Depression, Temporary Character Death, This Fic WILL deal with some mental health issues, Training, Well; as well as he can be anyway, learning how to fight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27935169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassandrasDreamworld/pseuds/CassandrasDreamworld
Summary: Hesitantly he says, “You realize that I… can’t die?”With speed he doesn’t expect she has him slammed into the ground, pinned with a foot on his stomach.Téa leans down, “Just because you will come back does not mean youhave to. And Saskia should not see you hurt.”
Relationships: Borch Three Jackdaws | Villentretenmerth & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Saskia, Jaskier | Dandelion & Téa
Series: i am forgotten (i am remade) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613920
Comments: 36
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey ho!!! i know it's been long but i have been neck deep in finals and work stress these past weeks so xD 
> 
> anyway! the next part!
> 
> i am exited for it since Jaskier gets a bit better again! yay! xDD i'd say 'well he can't get worse can he' but i don't wanna provoke the fic god nor my brain lol 
> 
> hope you like it <3

It takes weeks for Hyacinth to settle in, to stop jumping at his own shadows, and for his breakdowns to gradually recede.

Part of it is likely that Borch always finds new tasks for him to do, and new things for him to learn.

The other part of his stabilizing mental health is all in thanks to Saskia, she’s bright and bubbly, always bouncing around and asking questions.

It’s kind of sad that his sanity depends on a little child, he hopes that he hides it well enough from her and that she does not notice how dependent he is.

With her keeping him on his toes he doesn’t have any time to think. 

He doesn’t have time for his thoughts to spiral.

There are still bad days of course and there will likely be for a long, long time. 

And yet they get fewer the longer he is with them.

As well as the distractions that Saskia and Borch give him, there is also Téa.

She and Vea are, quite frankly, absolutely terrifying, and that hasn't changed since he’s last seen them.

Neither of them remember him, of course, but it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

He hadn’t known them well and neither did they know him.

It's not a re-acquaintance so much as meeting someone new.

Although he has gotten the impression that both of them have been pretty unimpressed by him, which is why it was such a surprise when, one morning, Téa literally  _ dragged _ him out of bed and onto the training grounds.

He doesn’t even have time to ask what this is all about before she rushes at him, sword at the ready and he has to scramble out of the way of a brutal hit that would have left a painful bruise.

Hyacinth might be good at dodging, but Téa is a formidable warrior, and unimpressed by his attempts at getting out of range.

No matter what he tries, he does not manage to escape her reach, Téa seemingly somehow always one step ahead of him.

It becomes startlingly clear after a while that he just can’t keep up with her superior stamina.

He starts to falter and become clumsy, doesn’t manage to avoid many of her blows anymore and he gets the bruises for it. 

At the end he lies on the ground, panting and drenched in sweat, too confused and out of breath to even ask what the hell is going on. 

Téa stands over him, her training sword pointed at his throat.

“Your form is weak and your stamina abysmal.” She says, an expression of absolute boredom on her face.

Hyacinth bites out, “You’re a trained warrior fighting a  _ bard _ , of course I can’t keep up!”

He props himself up on his elbows and blows a strand of hair out of his face.

“What was all this about anyways?” He asks, disgruntled.

Téa doesn’t say anything as she packs away her training sword, Hyacinth warily watching her.

At last she comes over to him, offering up her hand.

He raises his eyebrow but takes it, Téa pulling him up easily.

Suddenly.

“Saesenthessis likes you.”

His brows furrow and he opens his mouth to ask, but Téa cuts him off.

“ _ Saskia _ . She likes you.”

Hyacinth crosses his arms, “And? What does that have to do with anything?”

She raises an eyebrow, “She likes you, if something happened to you she would be sad.”

He blinks at that, caught off guard.

Hesitantly he says, “You realize that I… can’t die?”

With speed he doesn’t expect she has him slammed into the ground, pinned with a foot on his stomach.

Téa leans down, “Just because you will come back does not mean you _have to_ . And Saskia should not see you hurt.”

She leaves him wheezing on the ground once again. 

Without turning she says, “You also don’t know how long it will be like that, one day you  _ will _ not stand up again.”

She looks down at him.

“Everyday from now on, I’ll see you here just after sunrise every morning.” Her voice brooks no argument.

She turns away and off without looking back, leaving Hyacinth alone in the dirt of the training ground.

With a huff and groan he rolls to the side and pushes himself up again.

Dusting himself off he walks over to the edge of the training ground, leaning against a tree, legs and arms still shaking from the exertion of training.

All of his muscles hurt and he can already feel the soreness coming on.

It reminds him of-

A whole body shudder rips through him at the memory and whimper escapes him.

He feels as he did when he woke after that man killed him.

His legs give out and he slides down the tree, the bark catching at his clothes but he can’t care about it now.

Shakily he looks at his hands, remembers how he killed the man on the roads.

The blood dripping from his fingers onto the ground and soaking his clothes even more.

He raises his hand slowly to his neck, where he knows that many circular scars decorate his skin.

Over his shoulder is the biggest of them.

Sometimes he still feels the phantom pain of the arrowhead sinking into his flesh, the knife into his gut.

He still wakes up screaming from nightmares, drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

He hates the way he flinches from everything; a shadow, a sudden loud noise.

Especially, he hates how he-  _ his body _ \- instantly tenses, ready to flee, when hears Téa and Véa training with their bows.

When he had been especially unprepared for the sound of an arrow hitting its target, it had even managed to send him into one of his fits again.

It’s pathetic, why can’t he just control himself.

His thoughts spiral and he can’t do anything to stop them, they suck him down into a vortex of darkness and helplessness and he  _ hates _ it.

After these...  _ fits _ , he’s often so drained he can’t do anything after except lie in bed or sleep.

Sometimes he doesn’t want to leave the bed at all.

Often something triggers it, like the sound of arrows, reminding him of his- his  _ deaths _ . 

But other times… they seem to come without rhyme or reason. 

One moment he is happy and laughing, seemingly without a care in the world and the next he struggles to breathe.

It doesn’t feel like they’re his emotion sometimes, these feelings that bubble up and overwhelm him.

Nothing works. 

No breathing exercise, no distractions, he can’t do anything but sink deeper into the panic.

He is scared, fucking terrified that this will never stop, will never get better.

That he will have to live his whole, miserable, and apparently immortal life waiting for his next fit.

Having to live with not being able to breathe, the all consuming panic that drags him down, down, down.

He curls up on himself, legs tucked to his chest and face hidden by his arms, swallowed up by a wave of sadness once again.

He's too tired to even be angry, and that just makes him more miserable.

Miserable and sad and fucking tired.

It feels impossible to keep going sometimes, but he knows that  _ he _ has to.

There are things he has to do, even if it's just telling Saskia the story he had promised her, or taking care of Thistle.

He has to keep going.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the physical activity gives his mind some rest as well, and as the days go on he finds that he _likes_ moving and training.
> 
> The burn of his muscles after a hard day of work and knowing he’s done something- learning how to really move and spending time with people he likes, is exhilarating. 
> 
> He starts to have fun _living_ again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new chapter! and that before the new year! amazing!! :D hope you like it!!!!!

From that day on, he meets Téa every day on the training grounds, always just after sunrise. Sometimes even earlier when he hasn’t slept well once again.

She doesn’t start him on swords or any other weapon at first, and doesn’t seem to make any move to incorporate them either, despite that first lesson.

What Téa does instead is putting him through his paces. Stamina, endurance, flexibility. 

At the end of it he’s often beyond exhausted and wishes for nothing more than sleep. Naturally, she doesn’t even allow him that, instead sending him to do chores and take care of Thistle.

Of course, after these things are done Saskia often occupies him as well, demanding he play with her, tell her stories, or play music for her.

When he finally falls into bed, he is too exhausted for even simple thoughts, and the longer it continues the better and deeper he sleeps.

All the physical activity gives his mind some rest as well, and as the days go on he finds that he _likes_ moving and training.

The burn of his muscles after a hard day of work and knowing he’s done something- learning how to really move and spending time with people he likes, is exhilarating. 

He starts to have fun _living_ again.

There are still bad days, days where he's snippy and irritable, days where he’s 

tired and depressed, days that have him on edge and seeing a shadow around every corner.

They are getting better though, better and less often and he is so grateful for that.

Mainly, he is grateful to Téa for kicking him into gear and pulling him out of the dark corner of his mind he had been living in for months. He won’t say it to her, but he thinks that she knows anyway.

It’s thrilling to get better and better. He doesn’t much like fighting, or needing to know his way around weapons, but he also acknowledges the necessity of it.

Dying isn’t fun and it hurts and after what Borch told him he’s terrified of losing himself.

He is terrified of dying _truly_ , once and for all.

This is why he bears all the weapons training and battling his fears when Téa whips out a dagger on him.

Véa isn’t there as often as Téa, preferring to scout and do other things, and it’s alright with Jaskier. He’s noticed that she’s not much of a teacher and doesn’t have the patience for it.

When she is there she sometimes spars with him, and where Téa is all fluid grace, quick as a viper and nearly dancing on her feet, Véa is all raw power and shattering strikes. She moves to hurt and doesn’t hold back _anything_.

Whenever they spar, Jaskier comes away with bruises and broken bones that are all at least gone in the morning. That's the only good thing his… connection with the Fae has brought forward.

It’s truly magnificent to see Téa and Véa fight each other, it’s more of a dance then a fight both knowing each other so well they are just attuned to each other. They quip and joke with each other both in Common and Zerrikania, not even losing their breath while they’re talking without losing their footing.

He is always in awe watching them, they are both forces to be reckoned with and truly terrifying opponents.

Once, he had asked about one of their jokes and Téa just grinned, “You wouldn't understand it, my apologies.” Leaving him with a pat on his shoulder, leaving him thoroughly confused.

They are not only strong of course, often after training when they both were there they sit a few feet to the side, leaning into each other and talking. These moments feel intimate and nearly like a kind of ritual for them both, Hyacinth always leaves them to it when it happens.

At some point, Saskia joins them. Not in actual training since she is a bit too young for that, dragon or not, but she stretches and runs with them.

She has a lot of fun doing it, and it seems to be the only thing capable of tiring her out completely.

Something starts to build in his chest, growing with each day and rooting itself deeper and deeper. 

At some point he realizes that it’s _love_ , not fondness or gratefulness but love. Love for the little family he has found and stumbled into. 

He always loved freely and deeply, giving his heart to people without a second thought because that’s who he is as a person. Wearing his emotions on his sleeve and always getting his heart broken as a result. 

After everything that has happened, after losing his heart, he can’t believe he found it again.

He can’t believe he's _glad_ to have found it again, has opened his heart wide enough for people to carve their space out.

On that memorable occasion he goes to find Saskia and just hugs her for a long while. Saskia is a blessing and doesn’t ask any questions and just hugs back tightly.

She takes his hand and pulls him to Thistle after that and they play for a whole afternoon, trying to teach Thistle new tricks and just having _fun_ together.

The morning after that Téa even gives them both a small and soft smile, barely an uptick of her lips, but it was definitely there. Then, of course, she works him ragged and beats him into the ground again.

Sometimes he thinks she enjoys it way too much.

He can’t measure up to her at all and probably won’t ever manage either. She's trained for so long, and is genuinely good at training and fighting and enjoys it only like a true warrior could.  
  
Hyacinth doesn’t enjoy it, and doesn’t have an aptitude for it either.

This becomes especially clear when Téa starts him on weapons. Daggers, swords, even _spears_.

As he said before, Téa is a _good_ teacher, but even she can’t cure his ineptitude. Geralt couldn’t either. 

It hurts still thinking about it, about him, but he gets better. Hyacinth doesn’t nearly burst into tears when he thinks about him most days.

He gets good enough with weapons to not hurt himself at least, but he always has a certain kind of fear and respect for them. It's a fear he can’t seem to shake whenever he tries to work with them, and it shows. 

Most skilled fighters use weapons as extension of their body, they know exactly where the weapon is at all times.

He doesn’t. He can’t see it as an extension as himself and can’t work with whatever they try to train him with, not in the way they can. Hyacinth can tell that it's clunky and awkward, especially since he knows how it’s _supposed_ to be.

Téa doesn’t beat around the bush and outright tells him that this is not his strength, but that she will still train him so that he can be at least _passable_.

Internally, he sighs, but he does know that she’s right. The world is dangerous, not being able to die doesn’t change that fact.

They train and train so much that he never wants to see a sword ever again, but it works.

He can parry and block and do basic attacks with all three choices of weapons, and even Téa seems satisfied with his progress.

Finally, she announces that they will be starting on a new weapon as of the next morning.

Hyacinth should have expected that, honestly.

Though when he goes to their training ground, ready for another morning of training, Téa and Véa are both there.

They’re talking in Zerrikanian and laughing but the only thing he can focus on are what they are holding in their hands.

Téa, with a crossbow in her hands, and Véa, with a longbow slung over her shoulder.

Hyacinth's heart plummets to the ground and he chokes, eyes wide and fearful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s humiliating that he still reacts like this, humiliating and exhausting. Logically he _knows_ that what he experienced left it’s marks, and that even the greatest of warriors have succumbed to this fear before him. 
> 
> It doesn’t change how he feels regardless, and he hates that he feels this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait but my final was KICKING my ass but! i am done! I FUCKING PASSED! no fucking finals or school anymore thank fuck
> 
> i hope to be able to update more often now but also i have like 7 wips and i am not really the fastest writer out there. sorry in advance!

He doesn’t know what to do, he can’t move his body, his mind only going back to  _ pain _ . Stumbling, he falls to the ground and tries to get his breathing back under control, but it's no use.

Hyacinth doesn’t notice Téa approaching, not until she’s kneeling before him, talking to him. 

He doesn’t,  _ can’t, _ hear what she’s saying past the blood rushing through his ears.

Blinking owlishly at her, he registers that she is slowly stretching her hand out towards him. She keeps it in his line of sight, before only just hovering above his hand.

Téa seems to wait for something, and it takes too long for his panicking mind to catch up. He manages a nod, and she takes his trembling hand into her own.

Carefully, she guides his hand to her chest and presses it down, covering his hand with her own.

As before, it takes a while for Hyacinth to realize what she’s doing. Her chest noticeably expanding with each deep breath she takes, before slowly exhaling her breath and repeating.

He tries to follow the rhythm she’s setting but it’s hard, his lungs feeling constricted. It’s as if he can’t get enough air in. 

It’s a struggle to follow along, his breath stutters and he has to start again.

Téa doesn’t say anything, just breathes, and it, together with the point of contact that he can focus on, helps him calm down. 

He hears both Téa and Véa exchanging some quick words but he doesn’t understand them, the sounds rolling through his mind like water. He can’t even tell if they speak in common, or in their native tongue. 

Hyacinth doesn’t know how much time has passed until he manages to finally take deep breaths of his own again. There are still faint tremors running through his body, but he at least doesn't need Téa’s guidance anymore. 

She hasn’t let go of his hand, even when he unconsciously lowered it some time ago, and having this as an anchor is incredibly helpful for getting back from that dark place.

They sit like this for a long time, until Hyacinth feels a bit better.

It’s humiliating that he still reacts like this, humiliating and exhausting. Logically he  _ knows _ that what he experienced left it’s marks, and that even the greatest of warriors have succumbed to this fear before him. 

It doesn’t change how he feels regardless, and he hates that he feels this way. 

He remembers how sometimes even Geralt flinched and reacted poorly to certain sounds, certain motions. It took anywhere from a few minutes to a few days until the air of anxiety around him settled. Hyacinth never really  _ got _ it, but had tried being mindful of the times when something  _ had  _ spooked Geralt.

Now? Now he gets what Geralt went through, how tightly reigned his control must have been to not show any great outward signs. 

He doesn’t know if it has had anything to do with Geralt being a Witcher and having near utmost control over his whole being, or if it was time that slowly washed away many of the worst  _ symptoms _ of this… this mind sickness.

Be it as it might, Hyacinth wishes he wouldn’t have these reactions.

It’s tiring, and drains his strength whenever he has one of his fits, especially a bad one like this. 

He  _ hates _ it.

It’s a testament to how far he is still in his own head that he doesn’t notice Véa leading Thistle over to them, who lowers her big head and gently pushes it into his chest with a greeting huff.

Hyacinth instinctively wraps his arms loosely around her, and leans his forehead against hers while she nibbles at his chemise. 

He stays like that for a while, getting lost in Thistle’s warmth and her just being  _ there _ until she seems to have enough of his wallowing and gently but firmly nudges him back.

Giving a slightly wet sounding laugh, Hyacinth scoots backwards and drags himself up, dusting off his clothes and leaning into Thistle again, who whickers and shakes her head.

He turns so that he is looking at Véa and whispers, “Thank you.” He gives her a small and grateful nod that she returns with an incline of her head, although she seems to be uncomfortable with the situation. 

Téa slowly steps into his line of vision and pats Thistle on her back before turning to him. “We’re sorry.”

“It’s-”

She holds her hand up in a stopping motion and shakes her head. “It is not fine and not alright.” With a sigh she crosses her arm before her and looks Hyacinth in the eyes. “ _ It was not, _ and we need to apologize for causing you pain and distress.”

He takes a breath, he knows better than to argue with either of the two women so he just nods. “Thank you but it’s- it’s fine, really. I shouldn’t be this  _ sensitive _ about this.”

Téa looks over to Véa, they don’t say anything but there still seems to have been some kind of communication because he hears Véa leaving them alone- for now. 

Turning back to Hyacinth, Téa watches him with a frown. “Again. It is not fine and you are not sensitive.”

She takes a breath and lets her arms fall to her side again. “You have lived through something traumatic and horrible. Seldom would anyone be fine after such an event happened to them. I, as well as Véa, have known and _know_ _still_ many great warriors who are often plagued by the demons of their pasts.”

With a sigh she adds, “It was not fair of us to surprise you like this without talking it through with you beforehand.” She wraps a hand around his bicep, right under where the worst of the scarring is. “We should not have done it, but we did and that is our own failing.”

“Okay.” Hyacinth takes a deep breath and laces his other hand into Thistle’s mane. “Okay- I forgive you.”

Téa’s face softens marginally, “Thank you, Hyacinth.” 

She straightens and steps away again, posture going straight although her voice is still soft. “Training is postponed for today, but we do have to work on it, even if only so you might get better about seeing or hearing them.” Téa doesn’t have to specify what she means by ‘it’, and Hyacinth swallows.

He nods dejectedly and buries his face into Thistle’s neck.

“Do you want me to get Saesenthessis or leave you alone?” Téa asks.

Hyacinth has to think about it. On the one hand it’s not fair of him to use her as a crutch to get out the darkness that encompasses him after every fit. On the other hand he knows that a distraction would help, as it always does, and that Saskia is a joyful child who always manages to pull him out of his melancholy when he plays or trains with her.

He sighs and strokes firmly along Thistle’s fur, who sighs in contentment, head hanging low and eyes half closed. “Maybe- maybe in a bit I can get her from the house? But- I think I need to be alone for a while.”

Téa nods, “Of course, take as much time as you need.” She turns and goes to Véa, who has been a silent observer at the edge of the grounds to the exchange that just took place.

They then turn, and leave him to his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and I hope you liked it!
> 
> now that Hyacinth is- hopefully- getting better, he's also gonna take more of his surroundings in and stuff, aka his interaction with the other characters will be upped a notch because I have so many thoughts for Téa and Véa and also Saskia and Borch I want to incooperate into this fic! especially Téa and Véa because they're both a vague blank slate so i can build so many headcanons and do worldbuilding around them and also because they're fucking badass, i love them
> 
> though i might not get to all of them in this fic? i don't know but i do want to do at least 2 extra "interludes" to this series which are a Téa and Véa focused one and maybe a fluff thingie with Hyacinth, Saskia and Thistle


End file.
